Fitting
by Candyland
Summary: A short Buttercup vignette. The summer rains had come again. How fitting.


**Title: **Fitting  
**Author: **Candyland  
**Fandom:** _The Princess Bride:_ After her true love Westley is killed by pirates, a beautiful young man named Buttercup becomes engaged to a prince. Except Westley's alive and he wants Buttercup back. There's also a Spanish swordsman, a giant, a miracle worker, a guy with six fingers, and more memorable quotes than you can shake a stick at. I DON'T OWN IT!  
**Wordcount: **685  
**Taunt:** Hallo. My fandom's name is Inigo Montoya. You kill its father. Prepare to die.

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When Westley told her he was leaving, the only word that could even remotely describe how Buttercup felt was dread. It didn't sit right with her. Something was not as it should be. It was nothing she could put down to anything tangible, but when he spoke of it, something deep down twisted and churned.

Buttercup tried to give voice to her concerns, but they sounded foolish even to her own ears. In the end, she kissed him goodbye and wished him a safe journey and watched him walk away into the setting sun, hoping to every god she had ever heard of that she was wrong.

In the end, she was right. The Dread Pirate Roberts took no prisoners.

The news left her desolate, despairing, grieving. She isolated herself, saw few people, and rarely spoke to anyone, instead spending much of her time staring into the fire with dull eyes, repeating her vow that she would never love again.

It snowed the night she heard the news. It was unseasonal, to say the least, but down it came. The world was frozen beneath that white blanket, cold and icy and uncaring and completely unfeeling.

How fitting.

She should move on, some thought. Find herself another nice young man and settle down, start a family, and forget all about the poor farm boy, now lost to her. He had been nice, but there were still so many other nice boys in the world.

But ever loyal, Buttercup waited. She sat through the spring heat, pined through the summer rains, and into the orange autumn and the snows of winter. It was what many would have called a fool's errand. Westley was dead. He could never come for her.

A pity, thought some who knew her, for such a lovely girl to be so heartbroken. A few even wondered if perhaps her mind had been a bit touched by the whole ordeal. So sad. Such a shame.

Such was the state of things when the spring heat came again, the fifth such spring to have passed since her Westley had taken his leave and gone to his untimely demise, that an entourage from the castle appeared on Buttercup's doorstep. Humperdinck, the Prince of Florin, was seeking a bride, one who would be first his princess and someday soon his queen.

It seemed that word of her beauty had managed to reach even the palace, though she was uncertain as to how. Regardless of how he had come to hear of her, the prince was interested. After all, the law of the land gave Prince Humperdinck the right to choose his bride, and the representatives of the crown who now stood before her informed her of such.

They would return for her at spring's end, and she would wed in the autumn.

She was silent and drawn at the news, though she accepted it. Everything dies in the autumn, as beautiful green turns to orange and vibrant colors fade to brown.

How fitting.

The days that followed passed into weeks without her truly noticing, though she did gather what few belongings she wished to take with her. It wasn't that she would be wanting for anything at the palace, of that she was certain. But it just felt right. She packed them together carefully and tied them in a small, precious bundle.

When the spring ended and the season began to change once more, they came once again. This time they brought a carriage, and the footman came to her door. It was time. Prince Humperdinck was expecting them, and he was not one who appreciated being kept waiting.

Clutching her small parcel tightly in her hands, Buttercup stepped past the threshold of the place she had called home for a very long time. It was doubtful that she would see this place again, though she did not feel too much at the thought. She was in a place beyond the reach of such feelings.

She did, however, feel the rain fall. The summer rains had come once again to Florin, as they always did.

How fitting.

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**PS.** _Would you believe that when I sat down to start writing this (for a theme of "come up through the summer rain"), I was actually thinking of doing a short Fruits Basket fic? I have no idea how this happened! Just that I watched part of the movie this morning with my dad. And enjoyed his facial expression when the Impressive Clergyman started talking._

_Thanks for reading! Much love!_


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